Cellular psychosis, or, don’t call me

Part 1 of 2

About a year ago, I lost the old-fashioned flip phone that I had for years. My teenage son and I went to the phone store to get a new cell phone. I stood, somewhat confused, in front of a display of more than two dozen smartphones. My son turned to me and said, “Dad, you don’t need a smartphone.” Of course, he was right. I prefer my desktop or my laptop for internet access, I prefer a real camera for photographs, I don’t play video games and I rarely text. We moved on to a remote corner of the store to a display of three or four old-fashioned flip phones, where I chose a suitable replacement for the one I lost. 

Most people who know me well and have my cell phone number are aware that it would be futile to call me on my cell phone because I rarely have it on. I don’t see the desirability of 24/7 accessibility. My children know that if they may want to get a hold of me, they better tell me ahead of time to keep my phone turned on. I’ve returned phone calls many days after they were left because I did not get the message until I turned my phone on several days later. If I go out with my family, I usually don’t bring my phone with me, because they all have smartphones. How many phones do you need? 

I was issued a Blackberry when I started working at my last employer. I never requested the Blackberry, it was just assumed that I wanted one. I could have gotten one at my previous employer, but never saw the need. I thought my personal flip phone satisfied my needs. I took the phone back to my desk and threw it in a drawer, deciding I would figure out how to operate it when I had more time. I recently retired and had to turn in various items before I left, including my laptop, ID, and the Blackberry that was retrieved from the back of a desk drawer and never taken out of its box. The human resource person was confused: “What’s this?” Apparently, most people had long ago exchanged their Blackberry for an iPhone. A crowd gathered to examine this relic of the past. It was eventually decided that the Blackberry must be a “collector’s item” because of its mint condition. I considered it a badge of honor that I made it through a nearly 40-year career in the financial industry without being tethered to a smartphone. 

A recent study by the Pew Research Center determined that about 92 percent of adult Americans now own a cell phone. An even more recent 2015 Pew study ascertained that 64 percent of adult Americans — nearly two-thirds — own a smartphone. About 19 percent of Americans rely to a considerable degree on their smartphones for accessing the internet, either because they lack broadband at home or because they have few options for online access other than their cell phones. According to the UN, 6 billion people out of the world’s estimated population of 7 billion have access to mobile phones, while only 4.5 billion have access to a working toilet. Somehow mobile phone access has become a higher priority than indoor plumbing. 

I am not a curmudgeon, railing against technological innovation. I fully recognize the benefits of smartphone technology. I just never felt it was necessary for me. There is so much technology available. Must we avail ourselves of every technological innovation? Now that I am retired, I probably have less of a need for a smartphone than ever. Unfortunately, I have more time to dwell on the subject and I’m beginning to feel left out and a little bit old-fashioned. 

There are certain aspects of these technological marvels that I actually admire. If someone has no other practical way of accessing the internet, a smart phone becomes a necessity. I never had a car with a navigation package because car dealers tell me that the overpriced navigation option never adds anything to the secondary market value of the car. Besides, now that I’m retired, getting lost is half the fun. I am like Tarzan on the television commercial, “Tarzan know, where Tarzan go.” On the other hand, when I recently took my twins on a college tour, I had directions to all the colleges we were visiting carefully mapped out, but I neglected directions to one of the hotels where we had reservations. My daughter took out her smartphone and turned on the GPS app she downloaded for free. My daughter does not even have her driver’s license yet. The GPS app got us to the hotel without any problem. 

Part 2 next time.

Steve Rosen recently retired and has been a part-time resident of the Taconic section of Salisbury for over 25 years.